


Theodreid Lavellan's Chronicles

by MerlinGazon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Childishness, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Flirting, Jokes, M/M, Maybe a bit of fluff, Multi, No Fluff, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, we never know about fluff, whore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerlinGazon/pseuds/MerlinGazon
Summary: He never felt like a hero, or became anyone in particular, no more than a dalish hunter, even when the sky have been broken in half in a green opened-wound, pulsing like a sick heart.





	Theodreid Lavellan's Chronicles

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'm French, and it is a real challenge for me to write a story in English. I also don't have any beta-reader, so I apologies sincerely for grammatical or orthographic errors, or anything that look like a misunderstanding of some word's meaning. And this is the first time I'm usage AOO. And even the first time I write a story. Damn, I do not help to tempt to read to me. haha
> 
> ______________________
> 
> I'm very fond of the Dragon Age:Inquisition game, and my OC that came with it. But I felt kind of frustrated, by sometimes the lack of more mature matters, as real blood bath, extreme violence or sexual content (yes, brothels). And by the way, I always felt like my Inquisitor would be more interesting as a companion than the hero. That's why I have started to write this story.
> 
> Some points that could be interesting for you:  
> I go on the point that every places in this story are much larger than in the game, especially places like Haven and Skyhold. For example, in front of Haven's gate, the twenty soldiers is transformed into hundred, and the place looks more like a town than a small camp with ten wooden houses.  
> Dalish elves are even more unknown and mysterious, cut from the rest of the world. Only traders will travel, sometimes very far away from their clans, and be in contact with other civilizations. So, they speak between us only in dalish and have a strong accent, when they speak the common language.  
> Vallaslin pattern's size change if you are a good hunter/soldier, or less. It can sometimes take all the body.  
> There will be sex and violence. Be aware!  
> I will stuck to the story line, with no big changes in it, but I'll had some new things, as missions or what could be considered as cut-scenes. I also decided that the story, that do not seems to take much time (like a year, maybe?) in the game, will take, by a more realistic way, much more time to finish. Travels are long, people get older, as Dragon Age 2. 
> 
> I can't tag any relationships for now, as I don't know what will eventually happen next, and for the one I'm sure about, I don't want to spoil anything before to write it and post it.  
> PLEASE, if you see anything strange about my english, or have advises about writing a story, or like it just tell me. :)
> 
> I will take time to write the following chapters.  
> Thx for being here, by the way, I hope you will like it.

 

 

 

        He never felt like a hero. Even when he had saved one of his clan's brother from a painful death, when a giant was about to torn to pieces him. Theodreid looked like one, when he jumped from a tree branch, pulling out his daggers instead of his bow, to directly plant it in the colossus's skull. He came back to his clan, bathed with the blood's beast, with his brother, that was glad to be alive, and with a story a thousand times more heroic than it really was. He never felt like he would be someone important. Even when he won the heart of another dalish clan, ready to make war with his own, for a stupid nonsense territory misunderstanding. He only gave the fur of the biggest giant bear he could found to the warlike keeper, and it was all. Nothing heroic, neither. He never felt like he could become a father, or would be a good one, even when he took care of the child's clan, played with them, nursing them and loved them. He never felt like he would became anyone in particular, no more than a dalish hunter, even when the sky have been broken in half in a green opened-wound, pulsing like a sick heart.

 

        Theodreid Lavellan have seen the light for the first time between trees, in a glorious forest, rich of an emerald green color. He had a nice childhood, running in forests, climbing trees, taking naps on branches, putting leafs on his eyes to look like a butterfly.He stopped being a child when his father died. A mercenary group attacked them, while his clan and he were partying for the glory of the gods. They weren't prepared. The watch didn't see anything. The slayers attacked them with rage and no mercy, only gold in mind. His father was protecting children and took a poisoned blade hit. He died in pain, two days later. Theodreid was a child, but even years later, he could remember the mixed smell of vomit and poisoned blood, and will never forget it. He have been trained to became a good hunter, to bring back food and protect his clan. He was good at it, but as every teenager, he wanted to go out of forests, to see what he was supposed to fear, what his life-style cut him of. The keeper have been convinced to let him go with the clan's traders only because he was taller than the others and so looked older than he was, and by the way, he started to be a pain in the ass. He became one of the caravan's bodyguards. He met more dalish clans, discovered _shemlens_ villages, then cites. He also started to know himself, what he liked, what he wanted to be in the future.

He liked fancy orlisians clothes, tasty and spicy wine, sleeping in silk sheets, and even more when, in those fabulous garments, he woke up in good company. Orlisians and fereldians brothels have became his new favorite places. In those pleasure houses, he could meet all kind of people, from every where in Thedas, from all social classes, and learn numerous of way to have and give pleasure. He hates the smell of cold coffee, leather boots and being waked up after a night of room sport. His clan's brothers and sisters disapproved his love for his depraved and shameful pleasures, and took the bad habit to cut off his erotic nights. He didn't really care about their opinion, by the way. He once met a Val-Royaux city guard, in a slum's brothel. In the smell of incense and late night, they both forget about the whores surrounding them, for the ones they paid, to share a night of delightful pleasure and tenderness. Many of those kind of night followed and he was soon in love for the first time. His teens stopped when his lovers have been killed by a murderer, hunted in Val-Royaux. He never fell in love again. What remains of those time of innocence was the orlisian lessons his lover gave him and few poetry and song books. He learn to play lute only to be able to sing it, in his memory.

When the sky cracked in a green explosion, he was miles away, waiting for his sister to give news of the conclave situation. The Divine Justinia was looking for a political agreement between mages and templars, before they burn all Thedas. Clan Lavellan, as a part of this world, sent a spy to collect information and answers. If dalish had to be part of a war, they needed to be prepared. It didn't take time for Theodreid and his clan to know the Temple of Sacred Ashes destruction. Soon, there was rumors about someone, going out of nowhere, being called Herald of Andraste. An organisation named Inquisition was trying to deal with this mess, between the obvious death of the Divine and the sky broken, they had work to do.

Theodreid, standing in the crowd, waiting for the voices to stop screaming and argue, thought that he couldn't wait, ass on the grass, that the world saved himself. Someone here has to seek for the fate of his sister, and represent his people, as a legitimate civilization, for the war that was coming.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The snow was falling in a slow motion, the ground covered by meter of it. His horse was walking carefully, it wasn't the time to broke a leg on a wrong step. In contrary, the cold was bits on his cheeks, even the fur he tightened around his shoulders wasn't enough to keep him safe from the cold of winter. It was weeks that he began his travel, and camping in snow wasn't the more comfortable and safe way to stay alive. In the night, his horse gave him some heat, but showering in frozen river was as dangerous that uncomfortable. In those times, he missed the glowing and warm fire of mages and wished for a second to be one, but he could remember the chantry's hunt and murder of those gifted people, and forgot the though.

From above the hill, he could hear the ringing sound of swords and barked orders. He had arrived, finally, to Haven, the Inquisition camp.

 

He made his way between tents and soldiers, slowly approaching to the main gate, and take care to look as aggressive as a nug, cheering his hands up in front of him, disarmed. A tall blonde-haired man stopped him.

 

  
“- What are you doing here? Who sent you? ”

 

He took a deep breath, and while he dismounted, he gave himself time to study the place. Hundreds of soldiers, young and less, were training in front of the wooden gate, open, but guarded by a watch. Behind it was kept safe a entire village, topped by what seems to be a chantry. The place was lively, workers and traders were running around, and from his point of view, it looked like a ant-hill.

Now on the ground, he chose carefully his words to talk back to the man, who seemed to be the barker. He took a clear and sincere tone, to be sure to be understood, even with his dalish accent.

 

 

“- I am no enemy. I come to see the named Herald. I am what you could call an ambassador of the dalish clan Lavellan.”

 

The blond one looked at him closely. The tattoo on his face couldn't lie for him, the elf in front of him was dalish. But to think this stranger was friendly... The suspicious look frozen on his pale face was enough for Theodreid to spoke again:

 

“- If you doubt my good intention, that I can understand, I have things for the Inquisition, from my clan, as a tribute.”

 

Unlacing the bag carried behind the saddle of his horse, he made an inventory of rare and common plants, weapons, and solid fur that were inside.

 

“- Pardon me … _Ambassador_ but I can't let you in, even if you took care to bring those... Presents.”  
  
\- Tributes.

\- What?

\- That's tributes, not gifts.

\- … You do know that's the same, right?

\- Not for me.

\- Well... That doesn't change anything, You will say here, while someone in competence decide if you can be carried inside, without any risks, in other words, me.

\- Ah... I hope I'll be in good company, then. I have to admit I was really excited about a hot meal and a hotter bath.

\- … Hum. Follow me.”

 

By one hand, he took the lead ropes of his mount and followed the military guy where seemed to be the stable. It was time to take care of the poor creature that led him in this dangerous travel. Every eyes were on him. Not that he wasn't used to it, in his young years -seems like ages passed- he was also this kind of attraction in Orlais's cites. But those people were meeting, well, even seeing a dalish elf for the first time. The stable man mumbled and gave food the his horse. Theodreid sat down next to it, and waited for the time when the Inquisition would decide that a single elf, unarmed wouldn't be a threat for it and there beloved Herald.

The snow was still falling, as a waltz, dancing in the air before falling weakly on the velvet ground.

The soldier's swards were now ringing again, in a constant rhythm. As he was waiting on the ground, the horse lied down next to him, giving to the elf kisses on his hair. He remembered as his sister loved horses, maybe more the hallah. He could ear her laugh, when the sweet creature kissed her in the same way. Luciel. She was strong and brave, so much more than he could ever become. She was born few years later than him from the same parents. She stayed with the clan when he took the road with the merchants caravan. She begged, at this time, to come with him, to live adventures by his side, to live his life. But he left without her, as she was so to young, to naive, keeper's words. Itch time he came back, she was taller, stronger, and more beautiful. He could see again her long hair, a haircut she copied on him, slowly dancing in the wind. He could hear again her barked orders, when she was training the young hunters. She wanted to make him proud of her, she wanted to be the best for him. And she was. More than once, he told himself that he would die under her command, claiming the world back to themselves, two pirates looking for sex, alcohol and fight. He would have die for her glory. But itch time, he goes back on his travels, the idea of going on the world together always postponed. Since his last departure, five years ago, he never seen her again. It seems as thousand years, he couldn't remember exactly if her beauty mark was up the lip or under her right eye. In fact, in this moment, he realized that his memories fading, she was a hazy silhouette that looked more like a shadow than a real person. He couldn't think Luciel dead, she deserved so much more, than disappear in a flash, as ashes in wind, as she had never existed.

He began a mute prayer. He didn't know what to ask. If she had been alive, she would have give life signs. If she was gone, the only one who could know was the called Herald, as he was in the Temple of Sacred ashes to. He just hoped that she didn't die in pain. He couldn't regret something more than not being able to tell her that he loves her, from the bottom of his heart.

The sun was going down when he heard the voice of a woman, yelling at the military blond-haired man. The argument didn't last, as he saw the, now he could see, young lady coming in his direction. She was quiet exotic in this panorama, her tan skin and golden clothing weren't fereldian. As he catch her elegant accent, he couldn't be more confident when he told himself that she was antivan.

 

“- My dear ambassador! I cannot enough apologies for the barbaric behavior of the Commander. Please my dear, allow me to lead you to a much more comfortable place. I am, by the way, Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition. It is an honor to meet you, not only as the first dalish elf I have met, but also as a political representative. It is good to know that there is finally a people that take seriously the emergency of the situation.

 

From the place where soldiers were training, he could see the said Commander looking at them, always as suspicious.

"- Well your … Commander, so? Was only doing his job, I guess. I am surprise to find here such an exotic beauty, here in the frozen lands, surrounded by, as you said so well, barbarians. I'm talking about you, obviously.

 - O-Oh! Well, your surprise will not yet finish here, as the inquisition regroup all kind of people, from every where and every social class.

 - … I'm starting to like it. ”

 

He smirked for himself and give her his arm with a light reverence. She took it, with surprise. Dalish elves, as rare to met, hadn't the reputation to know, or even understand, the ins and outs of human nobility. As he saw Josephine reaction, he tough that, maybe, he wouldn't be so bad at this “ambassador” job. She started to lead to lead the walk, their steps took places in the dirt streets of the town, punctuated by some chit-chat about the local geography. They get in the small, compared to the size of the village, chantry and followed the main corridor, to finally enter in the lady's office.

 

“- I did understand that you are looking to meet our Herald of Andraste. It is a shame, in fact, you have missed him, he left few days ago.”

 

She was now crossing her fingers, sat on her desk.

 

“ - I cannot go without seeing him. We dalish are, or indeed my clan, after all, part of this world. We cannot not have an idea of the one who seems to be our best hope to heal the broken sky, and maybe even stop the war between religion and magic.”

 

By the way he talked, he could hear his clan's keeper.

 

“ - I understand your point ambassador, and that is why we, the Inquisition, offer you hospitality, until you can have an appointment him. "

 

He didn't ask about Luciel. The woman in front of him couldn't know anything about her, as she wasn't present at the conclave.

 

“ - I suppose you cannot have an estimation of the time it will take to him to come back from his journey? 

 - No, sadly I cannot. I will lead you to your quarters, and maybe a sit visit? It would be a pleasure to escort you in the town. 

 - Well, if I can request, I am much more in need of a hot supper and a bath.”

 

She smiled kindly. She did guess, even if she couldn't had any idea of his clan location, that his travel had been long and uncomfortable. He just hoped he didn't smell as a cow covered by shit, at this moment.

 

“- Of course, sir Lavellan, you will have everything you need.”

 

 

The sky was now deprived of sun, as he lazily took a nap in the hot water of the tub. As a political guest, he had been given large and rich quarters, provided by a private bathroom, in a wooden house not far from the chantry. A chance he didn't came as a freelance warrior, he could have missed the comfort of a prince. He, by the way, in this time of torment, wouldn't had stay with his clan. First, he couldn't just hide, waiting for a miracle from anyone, to save the fucking mess that was Thedas. Second, he had spent to much time out of his clan, travelling in “civilized” cites to just forget the comfort of it. And third, because of this, he kind of felt like a stranger to his own fellow dalish. Not that he didn't miss his family, he just couldn't felt at his right place in this culture, now so away from his own way of life. He had learn to like humans and dwarfs company, even qunaris, well Tal-vashoffs, as rare as he could meet some, while his dalish fellow were still talking about _shemlens_ with disdain.

Now in front of the large mirror next to the canopy bed, he draw away a wet strands of hair of his high cheekbones. He looked at himself. His plans was now to have an audience with the Herald, but he had no idea of what would come next. He doubted that he could simply go back to his body-guard job, as the war was going further, even the biggest cites will soon be suffering of this blood bath. As he brush his long brown hair, he found a white one. He slowly put it of. Stuck between two fingers, the long proof of his age seemed to study him back. How time go quickly, he thought.

 

 


End file.
